


The Show

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Misha Collins, Cockles Cooperative Advent Calendar Challenge, Exhibitionism, M/M, OMG I wrote sex, PWP, Top Jensen Ackles, jensen's kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I’ve wanted to do this, in this hotel, since we stayed here last year,” Jensen says. “I’ve been planning this for a year so … say you’ll do it?”It goes against Misha’s every instinct to agree. He’s as happy as the next person to get naked. Happier even. But in some kind of privacy, please. Plus he’s got a fucking hard-on for God’s sake. Jensen’s got a hard-on. How far is Jensen going to want them to go for this show he’s got lined up?“Isn’t this taking your exhibitionism kink just a bit too far?”
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91
Collections: Cockles Advent Calendar Challenge





	The Show

Misha gets the booty call at eleven. It’s much later than usual; so much later that he’d written off getting one at all tonight, presuming his booty-caller was making merry with friends in the hotel bar. 

In fact, when the call comes, he’s already ready for bed; showered, teeth cleaned and flossed, and has even engaged in a little pre-sleep naked yoga. In short, he’s relaxed and more than ready to climb alone between the sheets and sleep for a solid eight hours.

However, “Get your ass up here,” says Jensen in a voice that brooks no disagreement, hanging up before Misha gets the chance to say yay or nay anyway. Not that he has a choice but sometimes he likes to pretend that he has.

He looks down at himself, clean and still naked, and wonders if he could demand Jensen comes to him instead. Probably not. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go but he’s … well, he’s tired. 

Did he really just think that? Shit, he must be getting old.

He accepts the inevitable. He throws on a loose shirt, some slip-on shoes, and jeans. He doesn’t bother with underwear. He’s almost certainly not going to be needing any.

For some reason known only to Jensen, Jensen’s room at this particular con is on the very top floor, while everyone else is at least ten floors below. He’s not claiming ten flights of stairs. He takes the elevator. There are two people already riding when he gets in, wrapped up in each other and showing no interest in him whatsoever. He looks away. He’s never been much of a voyeur.

The two lovers get out two floors above his own and he finishes the ride alone, trying to get himself in the mood with thoughts of Jensen’s tall, lean nakedness. Not surprisingly, he’s only partly successful. He yawns.

Outside the elevator, he looks for Jensen’s room number and follows the signs. He turns right, and then left, and then keeps going down a really long corridor until eventually he finds himself at the door of a corner room tucked out of the way. It’s a good job he didn’t get himself too excited in the elevator after all; it would have worn off by the time he’d finished a trek so epic it deserves to be in a guide book. Maybe he should write one — “Hikes you can do without leaving your hotel.”

He reaches up to press the bell but before he pushes it, the door opens. Ah, he’s expected then.

“You took your time.”

Jensen stands in the doorway in full naked glory. His hair’s a little mussy and damp, presumably from showering. His smooth chest, broad above his narrow waist, looks pink from too hot water. His nipples are hard buds from the chill of the air-conditioning. His tattoos look good, framing his muscles. His dick hangs, slightly plump in its nest of manscaped, mid-brown pubic hair. His legs are long and muscled, his calves strong. He’s curling his toes into the shag of the carpet. He’s smiling mischievously and there’s a predatory glint in his eye as he reaches out a hand and grabs a fistful of Misha’s shirt, pulling him up against him and kissing him hard. 

Jensen doesn’t smell of an alcohol-fuelled evening so perhaps Misha did him an injustice regarding the hotel bar scenario. Jensen draws back. Misha takes the opportunity to justify his tardy arrival.

“It’s late,” Misha says. “I was ready for bed.”

Jensen closes the door behind Misha. Without the light from the corridor, the room is almost completely dark. There doesn’t seem to be any interior lights on at all but there’s a slight glow from the direction of the windows.

“I had a couple of things to set up,” Jensen says. Misha frowns. He’s not sure he’s got the energy for things that take time to set up.

Jensen begins to undo the buttons of Misha’s shirt, taking his time. His eyes are hungry as he slowly exposes him. The light fluff across Misha’s chest stands on end under the chill of the air-conditioning. Or maybe it’s the intensity of Jensen’s gaze.

Reaching the final button, Jensen pulls opens Misha’s shirt and takes one of his nipples into his mouth and between his teeth. Misha takes in a sharp breath. Jensen’s mouth is warm and wet, and his teeth pull and tease. His skin prickles with growing desire.

Jensen slips Misha’s shirt over his shoulders to drop on to the floor. 

“So,” Jensen says. “You were ready for bed, huh. You tired, babe? Too tired for this?” Jensen takes one of Misha’s hands and guides it to his erection, Jensen’s hand covering the back of Misha’s hand and rolling Misha’s palm against himself as he pushes hard against it.

Misha obviously hesitated a little too long before he says, “Never,” because Jensen huffs a small laugh. 

“That wasn’t very convincing.” Jensen leans into him, pushing him back against the wall. It’s cold and solid but it’s not long before Misha’s forgetting all about that. Jensen lays open-mouthed kisses along Misha’s neck, and under his jaw, and down his sternum. Jensen’s breath is hot on his skin and Misha’s dick is hard against the rough denim of his jeans. He drops his head backwards against the wall. Misha may have been tired but he’s rapidly waking up.

“Let me take care of you tonight … old man,” Jensen says. Misha can feel his smile against his skin.

“Fuck off,” he says, closing his eyes and drawing in a breath as Jensen runs his tongue along his collar bone.

“Also not very convincing,” Jensen says.

Jensen squats down on one knee. He undoes the buttons on Misha’s jeans torturously slowly. Each button involves a push and a twist against his dick. Jensen grins up at him like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He undoes the last button.

“No underwear huh? Guess you thought you were getting lucky tonight.”

“I kind of took it as given.” Misha says. 

Jensen teases Misha’s dick out of his jeans and without pre-amble sucks the head into his mouth. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Misha says, his words coming between heavy breaths. “Give a guy some warning.”

“It was right there,” Jensen says. “What’s a man to do?”

With Misha’s dick still receiving Jensen’s mouth’s full attention, Jensen slides Misha’s jeans down his legs to his ankles, his hands roaming over Misha’s buttocks, thighs and calves like he needs to touch him everywhere. The light touch, almost a caress, not quite tickling, makes Misha’s skin tingle, like Jensen has a hundred, a thousand fingers, not just ten. Finally, oh God, finally, Jensen let’s Misha slip out of his mouth; the sensation was almost too much. Misha is already out of breath and they haven’t left the doorway yet. 

“Come with me,” Jensen says. He takes Misha’s hand and pulls Misha along behind him into the bedroom. 

Windows run floor to ceiling, and wall to wall at the end of the bed. The curtains are open, and roll-down blinds are half-way down the windows so that Misha has to duck to see through the window. The bottom half has a great view of the river. With all the lights off in the room Misha can clearly see the moon glow on the river, the yellow glint of streetlights on the wet walkways from the recent summer rain, and the myriad of restaurants that line the river’s bank, still busy with late diners. And with the lights off in the room, no-one can see in, so when Jensen pulls him to the window and turns him, naked and aroused, to face the very uninspiring view of the window blinds while he kisses Misha’s shoulders, Misha’s not worried.

Then Jensen reaches for a remote control on a nearby chair and he turns the lights on.

“What the fuck,” Misha says. He jerks away from the windows as if they are suddenly red hot, but as he backs away, Jensen slides his hand down Misha’s arm and takes Misha’s hand, stopping him from going far.

“Trust me,” Jensen says. “No-one can see much and no-one can tell it’s us. We’re too far away.”

“You’ve heard of binoculars, right?” Misha says, still trying to squirm away so his dick is not exposed to the whole of the goddamn city.

“The angle’s terrible. I checked it out earlier. And they can’t see our faces because of the blind. I picked this room especially.”

“You checked it out earlier,” Misha echoes in disbelief. “And you _picked_ the _room_?”

“I’ve wanted to do this, in this hotel, since we stayed here last year,” Jensen says. “I’ve been planning this for a year so … say you’ll do it?”

It goes against Misha’s every instinct to agree. He’s as happy as the next person to get naked. Happier even. But in some kind of privacy, please. Plus he’s got a fucking hard-on for God’s sake. Jensen’s got a hard-on. How far is Jensen going to want them to go for this show he’s got lined up?

“Isn’t this taking your exhibitionism kink just a bit too far?” 

“For me, Love,” Jensen says, hitting his weak spot with one word, the bastard.

Is he going to do this? Misha checks the windows again. The blinds look like they’re going to hide everything above waist height. They’re way over the other side of the river and quite high. Misha certainly can’t make out what individual people are up to down on the river bank so it seems unlikely anyone outside will be able to make out what they’re up to, if anyone is even looking.

Binoculars.

He can’t believe Jensen’s been planning this for a whole year. On one hand, some warning might have been nice. On the other hand, Jensen must have known that if he’d given him some warning there’s no way Misha would be here now.

Jensen wouldn’t risk them being identified.

This is different than the risks they’ve taken before when the worst case scenario was people who already know they’re a thing getting to see them doing the thing.

“If you say no, then I turn the lights off, and close the curtains,” Jensen says, giving Misha the choice. He’s kissing the back of Misha’s neck. But there’s something in Jensen’s body language that belies the words. There’s a tension that says need, need, need.

Misha grits his teeth.

“Okay,” he says. He’s certainly not hard anymore anyway so it’s not like there’s anything to see he tells himself. His dick has apparently decided it’d be much less noticeable if it shrunk into the curls of dark hair between his legs.

Jensen isn’t put off by that at all. Now that Misha’s agreed he’s suddenly eager. “Then let’s show them what we’ve got, babe,” Jensen says.

Misha feels out of his depth. He’s gone from hot to lukewarm but he lets Jensen pull him back to the window, and turn them to face each other. Jensen takes both their dicks in one hand and starts stroking slowly, encouraging Misha back to arousal.

“Relax,” Jensen murmurs. He kisses Misha on the lips, firm and urgent, his free hand gripping Misha’s buttock, kneading it, fingertips lightly exploring along Misha’s crack. 

Misha’s tension gradually eases away. If he opens his eyes all he sees is the blinds. He can convince himself no-one is watching. He loses himself in the sensation of Jensen’s hands on his body, little points of contact that radiate heat and waves of sensation like tiny lightening bolts.

Misha lifts his hand and grips Jensen’s hair and he pulls Jensen harder into the kiss. 

As Jensen continues to stroke them lazily, he turns them and leans Misha back against the cold glass. Misha gasps as the cold of the window hits his warmer skin, and Jensen looks like he likes the sound, his pupils dilating as he watches closely like a cat playing with its prey. Misha’s not sure he’s ever seen Jensen quite this way before, his whole body radiating lust and desperate for what he wants. He rolls with it. If he’s honest with himself he’s secretly enjoying being pushed around. Not that he’d want to make a habit of it.

“How does it feel knowing there are people down there looking up and seeing your ass on show and knowing what I’m doing to your dick right now?” Jensen whispers into the skin behind Misha’s ear.

“Many, many people have seen my ass before,” Misha points out breathlessly.

“Yeah?” Jensen says. He puts his hands on Misha’s hips and turns him around to face the window, holding him forwards against the glass. It’s uncomfortably cold against the heat of his dick and he resists the urge to pull back. “What about your beautiful, long, thick, red, hard, aching dick, sweetheart?”

“Not so many — ahh,“ Misha says, all speech aborted as Jensen moves behind him and presses the length of his dick along the length of Misha’s ass crack. Misha’s face is against the blinds but he can’t fool himself anymore. He imagines people down on the river bank looking up, looking at his dick, seeing Jensen as a shape behind him, pushing against him, hands roaming over his hips and sides, maybe getting a little turned on themselves. He rolls his ass and has the satisfaction of feeling Jensen take a deep breath behind him.

“Oh, you like this do you?” Jensen says.

“Maybe.”

Jensen pulls Misha’s hips back into him, then takes each of Misha’s hands and places them on the window, palms flat against the glass. Then he reaches around and takes Misha’s dick into his hand. Jensen’s hand is warm and dry after the cold of the window and Jensen grips him hard and squeezes.

“Fuck me!” Misha exclaims involuntarily. 

“Oh, I will, sweetheart, I will,” Jensen says, a gravelly chuckle deep in his throat. He thrusts against Misha. “Soon.” 

Misha drops his head down between his shoulders and watches Jensen’s hand as it slides up and down, his thumb stroking over his slit, spreading beads of pre-cum around the head and down his length. He can smell it now as well. The smell of sex. Hot bodies and the vaguely chlorine-like smell of semen.

There’s one good thing about getting older. It’s a lot easier to hold out for the end game, a lot easier to wait for “soon” to come. Please, God, though he hopes he doesn’t have to wait too long.

Jensen puts a foot between Misha’s feet and encourages him to spread his legs. Misha complies. Misha’s going to comply with pretty much anything Jensen asks of him, he’s decided. This is Jensen’s kink and Jensen seems to know exactly what he wants. Jensen keeps stroking Misha’s dick, slowly and firmly. It’s a sensational feeling, teasingly good but too slow to bring him anywhere close to orgasm. He feels Jensen lean back before he hears the click of a container then Jensen’s dick disappears from his back and he hears the sound of squirting gel. Misha doesn’t move, spreadeagled as he is, palms against the windows, butt pushed back. 

Then Jensen’s at his side. He’s manoeuvring Misha like he knows Misha’s the willing puppet he is. He turns him sideways where there’s a chair placed so conveniently that Misha knows it must have been planned and put there in advance, and he transfers Misha’s hands from the window to the back of the chair. Jensen’s right hand is slick with lube. Misha opens his legs a little wider, and his butt lifts a little higher. He can’t stop himself; it’s muscle memory.

“You want something, sweetheart?” Jensen says quietly, as one slicked up finger rubs against Misha’s hole. Misha shudders as a buzz travels outwards from Jensen’s fingertip to the very tips of Misha’s fingers, and down his legs to the tips of his toes. Jensen keeps circling his hole, stroking and massaging. 

They’re sideways to the window now as Jensen slips in the tip of his finger. Misha feels the pressure as Jensen pushes all the way in until the tip is rubbing against his prostate, softly, pushing, until the sensation has him gritting his teeth with the prickly pleasure of it. 

Misha’s dick is heavy and wanting. Misha wants to touch himself but he knows it will be so much better if he waits for when Jensen is inside him, moving and thrusting, hitting his prostate with the head of his dick as it thrusts in and drags out. Then Misha will reach that peak somewhere between ache and ecstasy, that sends pins and needles through him and crawls across his skin.

Jensen’s easing himself in now, prodding at Misha’s hole with the lubed head of his dick, pushing inside him, slowly at first. Misha shifts a little to adjust the angle. Jensen reaches around him and balances himself with his right hand flat on Misha’s chest, and his left on Misha’s flank.

“There,” Misha gasps after a couple more small adjustments. He’s almost forgotten about the watchers, if there are any. Warmth is building up in his groin. Jensen hits his prostate with every thrust. Misha can feel the tension inside himself building up to an explosive point. Misha’s skin is positively electric.

“Now,” he says, and Jensen knows exactly what he wants. He reaches down and takes a hold of Misha’s dick. A sensation like no other shoots through him. It’s like an army of ants marching over his body. He feels it everywhere. The strokes of Jensen’s hand match his thrusts. Misha is panting. Jensen drops his forehead to Misha’s back and Misha can feel the warmth of Jensen’s breath coming in hard, sharp gasps against the colder sweat on his back.

“It’s kinda hot watching us, huh?” Jensen says, his words breathy and stuttering between thrusts.

Misha risks a glance to his right. They’re so close to the window he can see their reflection below where the blinds cut them off. He sees his ass pushed back and Jensen thrusting in, hard and fast. He sees Jensen’s hand pulling at his dick, its head dark and wet. And yes, Misha thinks, it is kinda hot.

Jensen’s fingers curl into Misha’s flank, gripping hard. His thrusts get faster.

“I’m gonna…” Jensen says, lifting his head and straightening his back. 

“Fuck,” Misha says, all command of the English language gone as his brain diverts all its attention to pure feeling.

He comes with a cry, shudders of pleasure shooting down his dick and through his spine. Jensen is groaning long and hard above him, spending himself into Misha. His thrusts slow into long, dragging slides before stopping altogether. Jensen’s hand on Misha’s dick does the same. Misha lets out long breathless gasps. Jensen’s hand is coated in Misha’s cum. Misha’s dick is sensitive and he squirms a little to encourage Jensen to let go. He does, then wraps both arms around Misha and pulls him backwards against his chest, Jensen’s softening dick slipping out as he does. A trickle of cum dribbles down the inside of Misha’s thigh.

Jensen laughs. A giggling, breathless, fun laugh. He turns Misha around and kisses him, the smooth, slow wetness of Jensen’s mouth on his own a warm comfort. 

Jensen reaches behind himself and fumbles for the remote control. He presses a button and the blinds drop all the way, and the curtains close.

“Show’s over,” he mumbles, satiated and exhausted.

They stumble over to the bed and curl up together.

“Thanks,” Jensen says, when he gets his breath back.

“Any time,” Misha says, and surprisingly he means it.


End file.
